


The Insanity of Neglect

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [204]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child Stiles Stilinski, Feral Behavior, Feral Peter Hale, Minor Violence, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 18:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: A man lost sight of his child without noticing the disappearance while he drowned his sorrows in alcohol, and while the father did not look the wolf came and took the boy, keeping the boy out of sight and in its care.





	The Insanity of Neglect

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! I come in absolute peace, and with a few stories too. 
> 
> So, this round of 15Minutes happened in the early days of August, but, due to the none-existing internet connection of the location this round took place posting these stories wasn’t possible. So, the plan was that once I was home I’d post them, BUT, one should never expect an allergy-med and insomniac suffering individual to remember to stuff that aren’t everyday things, and so I forgot to do it – well, no, I thought I’d done it, and have spent days in misery thinking my stories were so bad that no one liked them or even bothered to read them. Now, if it wasn’t for my pretty little flower ItAlmostWorked! who went searching for a couple of stories then these stories would never been shared with you all. Ooopsie. I'm going to try and get all the stories posted this week, but no promises.
> 
> To those familiar with the 15Minutes series, please skip this part and dance your way down to SLIGHT CHANGE, however, you fresh and brace souls that have dared to walk into my realm please stay, I am here to explain a few things and give you an out. So, the 15Minutes series is named after the time I am gifted to write a story, once the 15minutes have runout I am by the rules of the game to write not a single line more, which causes these stories to be written in great haste and potent panic, there are thus many mistakes to be found such as horrendous grammar and typos are aplenty, the story itself is poorly told and surely incoherent at times. Now, if you can’t handle with grace typos, poor grammar or bad storytelling, then please leave now and save yourself the agony of reading this story. If, however, you think you can handle my fic then you are welcome to stay. Now, perhaps you are questioning why am I taking part in this madness? Well, this is my way of paying back a debt to my friends, and each friend gives me the ingredients to write a story, be it questionable ingredients at times. Now, those of you who have decided to save themselves, the time is now, and I wish you well. Those who wish to take a chance on my story, follow me and let us move on to SLIGHT CHANGE and please follow me down to SLIGHT CHANGE.
> 
> SLIGHT CHANGE in this game, and no it is not an increase in time, but rather there is a Theme at play today, well, Themes. So this little round of stories has the theme of Kid Stiles, but not to worry ThankTheTreesAndTheBees still has the power to demand things such as wanting abduction of child Stiles by Peter Hale, alcoholic Sheriff, not so sane Peter, not so great dad Sheriff, and that’s all she gave me and so this happened.

The panic inside of him continues to grow while he attempts to figure out when exactly he’d seen his son last, and this shouldn’t be such a difficult thing to do but sadly it is. The struggle to recall when was the last-time he’d spoken to his son was great. Regardless of how important it was for him to remember the last time he’d seen or spoken to his son, his mind remained sluggish when it came to finding these answers, his mind was a muddled mess and no matter of water or bitter black coffee could clear it.

John can’t say when he’d started to lose track of his son, but he’d guess it started during the chaos that was the night of the Hale fire, that night John hadn’t called to check-up on his son and once he let one day and night slip, well, it became almost second-nature to allow it to happen again and again. There’s also no doubt that the habit of not going upstairs to check on his son after coming home late at night, became easier due to the first-glass of whiskey he downed almost immediately after coming home.

Back when his son had to go to school each morning, John had been there to make sure his kid got out of bed and went to school, but once the summer holidays started John stopped waking his kid up in the morning, choosing instead to sneak out of the house before his son would wake-up in hopes of avoiding those disapproving eyes from looking at him; John had seen the look of disappointment in the eyes of his son almost daily since the death of his wife, and instead of admitting he deserved it and proceeding to something about his drinking, John had chosen another road to take which had landed him int his horrible situation.

John wishes it had only been days since he’d last seen his son, or spoken to him, but he fears those few days are in-fact weeks.

Sitting there, in the familiar room where he’d interrogated many men and women, John couldn’t help but wish that it hadn’t been summer, since at least then someone at school would’ve noticed his son missing before a week had even a chance of passing; hell, he would’ve been bombarded with not only a phone call from the school but also from Melissa McCall. 

John’s heart drops into his alcohol laced stomach when he realizes the flaw in his thinking, it shouldn’t have to be because of his kid not appearing at school for a teacher to notice his son was missing. It shouldn’t have been Melissa and Scott’s hob to notice that his son was missing, something which they obviously couldn’t do while visiting family, John should’ve been the one to notice his child was gone since he was the dad and Mieczyslaw’s only living parent.

_`Oh, God_, ´ John things briefly, his stomach dropping to the floor, ` _What am I going to say to Melissa? To Scott?_ ´

Being interrogated by his own deputies, John can’t help but think he should’ve noticed sooner that his son was gone, it really shouldn’t have been the lack of clean shirts and trousers which had sent him to Mieczyslaw’s room, ready to give his lazy kid hell for not helping around the house; he should’ve realized something wasn’t right when the trash was never taken out, and how the dishes in the kitchen sink continued to grow, while more and more food went bad in the fridge and how the edible food in there or in the pantry remained untouched.

John should’ve noticed something wasn’t right sooner, and it shouldn’t have been because he’d wanted to yell at his kid for not doing the laundry that slowly revealed that his son was gone. Missing. It shouldn’t have been the lack of pizza boxes, cans of soda or the way his Mieczyslaw’s medication had sat at the same spot long enough to gather a light layer of dust around and upon the pill-bottle.

The sense of dread he’s felt since he’d stepped inside the bedroom of his son, the stale air greeting him in that tell-tale sort of way that told you the room had been undisturbed for much longer than a day, that feeling had changed very little since John began to call every family in Beacon Hills who had a child in the same year and class as his son, hoping that his son had more than one friend than Scott and that his kid had just forgot to tell him he was staying with a friend; but once the hour-long ordeal was over, and in a state of near panic, John had been forced to face the truth that he couldn’t find his son on his own.

During the first-day of the search, John wasn’t questioned much, which was the result of the privilege that came with being the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, but by day two and after Tara had gone to his house there had been a significant change in how he was being treaded. He was denied access to his own house, even to pick-up a change of clothes, and he was kept in the dark of everything relating to the search for his son and made to endure being interrogated by his own deputies.

John had no idea what was going on now outside the station, he barely had a grasp of the time that had passed since he was taken to the station by Deputy Haynes who treated him very much like he was some common criminal. John couldn’t be sure who was calling the shots now, his pick would’ve been Tara, but there was every possibility that Deputy Haynes had outranked her by years and so the idiot might be wasting resources and time chasing shadows.

John knew that the tides had turned against him now, due to the way no one not even old-Tom would give him a straight answer, and John is starting to feel like he should probably get a lawyer but such an action he felt would make him look guilty of something.

The knock on the door startles him, but not just him, old-Tom who had been the latest to question is equally startled by the interruption. 

As the door opens, John manages to smile weakly at Tara, but his smile drops at the sight of the two evidence bag she’s holding.

`What’s that? ´ he can’t help but ask immediately, the grim look on the still fresh-faced deputy makes him feel a peculiar sense of doom.

`The dogs, they found something. ´ she explains, more to Tom than him, the way she’s avoiding to even look at him makes it harder for John not to feel like something truly horrific was about to unfold.

`What is it? ´ John asks, while missing the small nod Tom gives Tara who moves over to the table. Almost gingerly Tara places the two evidence bags on the table, one much larger than the other, then without a word she hands John a pair of latex-gloves before putting another pair on her own much more delicate hands.

`Do you recognize this sock? ´ she asks once she’s opened the smaller bag, placing the damp sock before him, there’s a dark-stain on the Spiderman themed sock.

`I don’t know. ´ and he honestly doesn’t know, he hasn’t bee all that invested in knowing every piece of clothing his son had.

Carefully he handles the sock, noticing there’s an angry looking where the ankle of his son might’ve been if this had been one of Mieczyslaw’s sock.

`Before, before Claudia became too sick, ´ John explains, still trying desperately to find some evidence to prove or disprove that this sock had belonged to his son, `She – she went on a spending spree, she bought a bunch of clothes and socks for Mischief. ´

`Alright. ´ Tara sighs, taking back the sock, it’s clear his answer hadn’t made her happy.

`Can I ask, ´ John starts, mouth feeling strangely dry, `where you found it? ´

Ignoring his question, Tara pulls out the familiar stuffed rabbit plushie Tom had brought for John’s son when he came to check-up on John and Claudia and their baby boy. The rabbit was dirty and torn-up a little as if some wild animal had gotten its fangs into it, there’s also a large dark stain that didn’t look like mud or a juice stain. The gasp that leaves Tom once Tara has the toy out of the bag is loud, and it’s this older-man with faded-red hair and beard that confirms what John already knows.

`That’s Mr. Bunny. ´

Tara glances over at Tom who looks as pale as death, the older-man continues then voice clearly distressed, `I gave him that bunny. I gave him that bunny. ´

Ignoring Tom, Tara turns back to John, while Tom was now out of his chair, pulling at the few strands of hair he still had left on his head.

`Can you confirm, Mr. Stilinski, that this belonged to your son? ´ Tara asks, voice so formal it reveals a great deal of where her mind was now going.

`Of course it fucking is! ´ Tom yells then, pointing at the dirty and beyond repair, `The kid can’t sleep without it, everyone here knows that. Everyone knows he's carried it around since Claudia passed away! ´

`Mr. Stilinski, can you confirm that this belonged to your son? ´ Tara asks again, and while John may confirm this with a short nod, he asks his deputy where Mr. Bunny had been found.

`We found the sock, ´ Tara starts, while stuffing the bunny back in the bag before John has a chance to even touch it, ` right outside the fence, in the backyard of your house, it got caught in the bushes. ´

`You think Mieczyslaw climbed the fence? ´ John asks, the words immediately ringing wrong in his head after he spoke them. John knows his son is afraid of the woods, for over a month now his kid has been convinced there’s a monster in the woods and that this monster watches him. 

`How would the sock get stuck in the bushes if he was wearing his shoes? ´ Tara asks him then, closing the bag with the bunny while watching his reaction closely.

`I – I don’t…´ John starts, trying to get his brain to work, but he just can’t get rid of this cloud in his head, and not for the first-time during the past forty-eight hours or so, does he think all he needs is one shot of whiskey and he will be good as gold.

`If I maybe honest, Mr. Stilinski. ´ Tara says then, voice cold and angry, `I climbed the fence, and it’s not an easy thing to do, even for a grown-up so I can’t see how little Mischief would’ve managed that. ´

`What… what are you saying? ´ John can’t help but ask as alarm-bells begin to ring inside his head.

` We found a damaged bush, one that looked suspiciously a lot like something heavy enough to break a few branches had been has fallen into it, a bush that also contained what we believe to be hairs that belonged to your son, as well as the sock I’ve shown you. We’ve also got a fence too tall for a child to climb on their own. So, tell me, Mr. Stilinski what would you think if you were in my shoes? ´ Everything Tara tells him fuels the horrible feeling inside of John, and he knows even without looking into her eyes what she’s thinking.

`You think, you think I did something to my son? ´ John asks, feeling outrage and alarmed that anyone would even think him capable of harming his son, much less one of his deputies.

`We’ve got dogs searching the woods, ´ Tara explains then, picking-up both evidence bags, her eyes are cold and hard as they glare at him, `Do yourself a favour, do us all a favour, and tell us where you hid the body. ´

Rising to his feet, fast enough to make to world spin, John roars at his once favourite deputy, `You think he’s dead?! That I killed my son!? What the fuck is wrong with you?! ´

Tom is immediately behind him, restraining him like some common criminal while John continues to scream at Tara, `I didn’t hurt my son. I would never hurt my son. ´ 

**~*~**

The forest is suddenly loud, too loud. Unsafe. Very unsafe.

The silent and safe forest was no longer safe or silent.

There were humans, and their hounds.

Not safe. Not safe at all.

He knows why they are there, they want his treasure, to take his treasure away and leave him all alone again.

He moves restlessly by the stream from which he drinks and brings water to his treasure. Trying to sort out his instincts that scream for him to attack the hounds and kill all the humans, and this desire is great but there’s a part of him that warns him against such actions.

Too many humans, there were too many humans, and too many dead humans would draw too much attention.

Killing the humans to keep their treasure and den safe, it simply wasn’t an option. 

There is a want to run, hide, escape.

There’s a want to stand firm, not to run like a coward, to protect the treasure and the den they’d made for themselves.

In the end, the uneasy end, they dart back to the safety of the small den of theirs. There’s a need to take the treasure and relocate it before the humans cross the stream. It is important for them to hide the treasure somewhere deeper in the forest that protected them, to hide it somewhere where not even the ears of a dog could hear it.

They know that these humans and their hounds will take their treasure if they find it, they’ll take it away and their treasure might betray them if it was away from them. 

Reaching the den, a small cave they’d found and hid in when everything hurt, when the stench of burned flesh and infections was all they could smell for days and weeks, when life seemed too painful and far too raw to survive, they crawled into the damp chilled darkness to hide and heal.

The scent of earth, them, their treasure and other things that came with the treasure kept hidden in the den, it was all familiar and almost comforting even with a few unpleasant scents in the mix such as the pain and tears of their treasure. 

The softly beating of a young heart draws them towards the treasure, a treasure they would continue to keep forever and ever.

The beautiful treasure they’d found all on their own, and taken when they knew it would be safe to do so, lay sleeping and weak from fever and the pain of freshly broken bones.

If only the humans weren’t coming then they would’ve left his treasure in peace, left it to heal in peace, only disrupting its rest to feed it water and meat. But the humans and their hounds were coming, and they need to move the little treasure somewhere safer. Carefully they cover the treasures mouth, which stirs it from its sleep, but before their treasure is wake-enough to do much they’d already tied its little hands behind its back. The stench of tears, tears of fear and pain and grave distress, were unpleasant.

The pitiful whimpers and cries that leave the treasure as they drag it out of the den hurts their heart, almost as much as it had hurt them to punish their treasure when it left the den and ran. The cloth covering the small mouth muffling the screams that the treasure has no will to keep down, but still they fear it isn’t enough for the sharp ears of the dogs to hear it and so they move quickly to once more cradle their treasure against their chest as they run deeper into the forest. 

The treasure groans and whimpers as they run. They do their best, their absolute best to try and minimalize the suffering of the treasure while hurrying towards safety, but there isn’t much they can do to keep the broken legs of their little treasure from moving if only slightly with each step. The pain soon drags the small treasure into the land of blissful unconsciousness, and that is for the best. 

Reaching what appeared to be an old cabin and no longer hearing the humans or the hounds, they decide the ruins of the cabin to be a good place to keep the treasure safe for now at least. Once the forest is silent again, they would move again, return to their land and find a new den for them and their little treasure.

Carefully he sets their treasure down onto the ground so they could break a window, a window through which they climb through without causing any damage to their little treasure, the cabin doesn’t feel safe to them, but it will have to do.

Finding an old and smelly bed, they set their treasure down on it before crawling-up on the bed themselves, wrapping themselves tightly around the shivering form of their treasure.

Once they’ve all rested, they would set the bones once more, but for now they would rest and keep their treasure warm.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Peter survived the Hale fire, on fire and in a panic he'd ran into the woods when the mountain ash circle broke. He found a place to hide and because he was in a bad shape he stayed there, expecting to die really, but somehow he survived it but he was cracked and those crack grew the longer he was alone, all the while craving for pack and company. Then one day there's this child, this boy that smells of grief and sorrow, and the child is alone and so Peter takes him; after all the boy is alone, just like he is. 
> 
> In my head Laura returns to Beacon Hills, deciding to finally deal with the Hale property and as she visits the ruins of her childhood home, she finds this strange boy with misshapen legs crawling around on all-fours and covered in dirt. When this boy cries out in fear when he notices her, it doesn't take long for another figure appear, crashing through the back of the house and just seconds before her uncle rips her apart, Laura recognises Peter who becomes the alpha at that moment. 
> 
> Now, Derek comes to search for his sister and when he goes to the ruins of their childhood home, he comes across Stiles too. Although this time Stiles is caught searching through Derek's car, or rather Laura's which she'd left with him when she took off to Beacon Hills, and instead of being pissed off by the sight of some of his belongs thrown on the ground and this strange kid wearing layers of his clothes (Stiles knows what he needs and he takes it), while stuffing his face full with Derek's snacks. Peter doesn't come to Stiles' rescue this time, since he's on his bloody revenge trip and so Derek survives his encounter with this wildling. 
> 
> After years alone with Peter and without proper care Stiles isn’t exactly in the best shape, but Stiles is alive and that’s so much more than anyone would’ve expected. Stiles isn’t going to be entirely human in his behaviour, he’s lived a bit too long in solitude with Peter as his only companion, but he’s no monster and he is human still, which is why it’s so easy for Derek to overpower him and then call for help. 
> 
> Now Stiles' dad was accused and convicted for killing his son, and everyone believed he'd done it even Melissa and Scott, and he was even convicted of it. The remains of Stiles pants and shirt was convincing enough proof to people, as were teachers statements about having concerns about Stiles' homelife since Stiles would come to school with bruises (clumsy kid) and dirty clothes and without lunch, and sure, the Sheriff had admitted to more than once person that he felt like things would be easier if he didn't have a son (but what he meant was that if he didn't have a kid, then he could've just followed Claudia), and sure he cursed the difficulties of being a father (since he felt like he was crap at it, which he was due to the alcohol). 
> 
> John gets and almighty shock when he finds out that his son was found alive. He's thrilled to learn his son is alive, but also furious because his son has been alive all this time and no-one was looking for him because everyone thought John had killed him. John has been though a hell of a lot in prison, and yet, it’s seeing his son after all these years all skin and bones, bones that haven’t healed or grown correctly, all of that with seeing just how distressed and afraid his son is, all of that just feels like so much worse than the hell John had lived for the past six or so years.
> 
> Stiles doesn't recognise his dad, Melissa or even Scott, but when John brings him Mr. Bunny something clicks in Stiles' head, and then then when John starts to softly sing a familiar song to his son, that too clicks in Stiles' head. It's a slow process but eventually, John starts to break down the walls Stiles' mind has built to help him survive with Peter. 
> 
> Now, because it’s pretty obvious that Stiles has been living with a werewolf, and werewolf that killed Derek’s sister and has been running wild, is enough to have the Argents watching the hospital to which Stiles was taken too, everyone thinking that the werewolf will come for the boy. Peter will of course try and get his treasure back, and not a soul, not even his nephew will stop him. 
> 
> Got to stop, got another story to write.


End file.
